


could be worse

by tgtchm



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Diary/Journal, M/M, POV First Person, richard's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 11:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12529856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgtchm/pseuds/tgtchm
Summary: excerpts from Richard's travel diary: trapped in Iceland, next to Jeremy and James in a hotel with paper-thin walls...





	could be worse

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally published on the 25th November 2015 (by me under a different username) and I'm reuploading it now as a process of moving my works from one account to the other. it's been edited for punctuation errors but nothing else.
> 
> this one was a bit of a challenge—it's written in a first-person POV (not my strong suit) from Richard's perspective, told through diary entries. It's something different, and I remember having a lot of fun with it!

_Sunday, 4:22 PM_  
Started keeping a journal again. Dunno why. Maybe it’s so I can stave off the impending boredom. Andy just told us our flights have been cancelled. Some fucking volcano erupting somewhere, fucking everything up. So it’s another few nights in this shithole of a hotel for the whole crew.

We’ve already gotten on each other’s nerves, it’s been too long a shoot. I desperately want to get home and see the girls and Mindy—and I know the others are feeling the same too. That’s the thing with long shoots, I guess. Even after all these years, when I should be used to them, I’m really not. It’s hard. Phone calls are good, but they’re not the same.

Still, could be worse. I could be back in the north pole.

 

_Monday, 3:05 AM_  
You know how I said that it could be worse? Well, I rescind that statement. I’m right next to James’ and Jeremy’s room—which wouldn’t usually be a problem, except the walls in this place are paper thin. I can hear Jeremy roll over in crystal clear HD, so that means I can also hear James’ awful snoring. How can a human being sound so much like a freight train? Although it makes sense, I suppose, with how he laughs. All the air comes from his nose.

As a result of this oversight on the hotel’s part, I heard Jeremy throw something at James tonight. Probably a pillow or something (though it should have been a chair). It connected with James’ head, and he grunted and rolled over. Jeremy called him a fucker and sighed loudly. I was tempted to bang on the wall and call _him_ a fucker, but I think I’ll keep the fact that I can hear them to myself for now. They might say something stupid that I can hold against them later.

James has settled now, so I suppose I should try and get some sleep.

 

_Tuesday, 1:56 PM_  
My temper—which I will readily admit is on a hair trigger at the best of times—is really close to flaring up. Stupid fucking volcano is still erupting happily. I hope it’s not the same one James drove on a few years back, because then the environmentalists will have another reason to have a go at us.

Jeremy looked very tired at breakfast today—well, more tired than usual. It doesn’t help that it’s freezing, and he’s been chain smoking (even when I ask him not to do it around me because he knows I’ve quit). He keeps stealing looks at James when he thinks either of us aren’t watching, except it’s not working, because I keep catching him. He just sort of looks at me helplessly after that.

There’s nothing to do in this hotel. They have a common room type of area, with a table tennis table, and a telly on the wall with a measly selection of DVDs. They’re all romantic comedies. I like stuff with explosions in and the other two like their boring old war films so when I brought _The Notebook_ to them and suggested we watch it they were not amused. James cracked a smile, though, before snatching it and swatting at me.

One day at a time.

 

_Wednesday, 4:16 AM_  
Right. Something very odd just happened, and I need to write it down so I remember what happened properly.

I woke up to James’ snoring being louder than usual. Was very tempted to bash down his door and smack him over the head with something very hard, but Jeremy beat me to it. Just like last time, he threw something at James—but this time James woke up.

“Sod off, Clarkson,” he had mumbled.

Jeremy had moved—evident by the creaking of bedsprings—and sighed. “James,” he said, except it wasn’t how he usually said James’ name. He said it how I say Mindy’s name sometimes—like he just _needed_ James.

Of course at this point I stuck my ear on the wall to hear better. I’ve never heard Jeremy sound like that before.

“Don’t,” James replied, but he sounded the same—almost _hoarse_. There was another series of creaks, and then silence for a bit, until James laughed, and muttered something. All I caught was “... digging in, Jeremy.”

They’re up to something, and I’m going to find out what.

It’s not like there’s anything better to do around here anyway.

 

_Thursday, 3:01 PM_  
James and Jeremy won’t look at each other in the eye today, which just cements the idea in my head that they’re up to something. Jeremy keeps staring at James, woefully, with that stupid expression he gets sometimes—his ‘woe is me’ look. It’s very irritating.

Trekked out through the snow to the village shop and bought some headphones today. Mine went missing—I suspect Iain nicked them when I wasn’t looking. Maybe they’ll cancel out James’ snoring, although I also run the risk of missing out on any late night conversations Jeremy and James are having.

Although I’ll be honest, I can’t understand why Jeremy keeps moping. I’m trying to fit it all together in my head, all the pieces of this little puzzle, but it’s just not computing. Why did Jeremy sound like that, like he _needed_ James? I just can’t comprehend it.

I will get to the bottom of this by the time that fucking volcano stops erupting, I’m sure of it.

 

_Saturday, 6:56 AM_  
Well. I got to the bottom of it. But I wish I could go back to ignorance.

They started talking again a few hours ago. More creaking of bedsprings. This time I’d had the foresight to nick a glass from the dining room to hold up to the wall, so, unfortunately for me, I heard everything in detail.

“Come here,” Jeremy mumbled, to a cacophony of creaks, which I can now reveal to you as James crawling into bed with him. “I’m cold.”

“Losing circulation to your extremities, old man?” James joked, and Jeremy must have elbowed him, because he let out a grunt.

There was a happy sigh from one of them, and then a wet noise—I can’t even believe I’m writing this right now—which was probably kissing. Yeah. Kissing. I can’t fucking comprehend it either. Then James started making breathy little moans, at which point I—still in possession of my innocence—was very confused. So I got up and went round to their room and opened the door.

I’m sure you can imagine what I saw. I won’t describe it here. I will say that seeing my two colleagues in bed, wanking each other off, has scarred me for life and I’m sure I’m going to need psychological intervention when I get home.

James stared at me. Jeremy stared at me. I stared at them. I opened my mouth to say something, probably to scream, but Jeremy beat me to it. He didn’t even miss a beat.

“Have you been listening the whole time, you dirty bastard?”

Said, of course, with a smirk on his face—despite his fingers still being wrapped around James’ cock for Christ’s sake.

I didn’t have anything to say to that that wasn’t a string of expletives or a wordless scream so I walked, calmly, down the hallway and out the front door, into the snow, wearing nothing but my pyjama bottoms. I needed some space to clear my head and think.

Which I’ve been doing a rather lot of since then, although I have gone back inside. It’s not that I mind if the two oafs are shagging madly—they can do what they like with each other—but rather that they had to start doing it when I was right next door.

It does explain Jeremy’s looks to James, though. It explains rather a lot actually.

 

_Monday, 4:44 PM_  
Andy assures me we will be flying out the day after tomorrow. I am ecstatic. The headphones cancel out unwanted noise, especially when I turn my music up. Not all of it, though; I can still hear Jeremy and James moaning—but I just try to ignore it. I’m sure they’re hamming it up for my benefit. Or detriment. Whatever.

Spoke to Jeremy about it, though. He was quite serious for once and looked rather worried that I was going to disown him or something. James was hovering by the bar pretending to drink beer but eavesdropping rather obviously. I told him in no uncertain terms that they were still my best mates, but to please _try_ to be discreet. So of course they have done no such thing.

Still. Could be worse. The north pole springs to mind.

Stupid fucking volcano.

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt: hello! I just came across this Richard quote: "My headphones cancel out unwanted noise - not all of it - I can still hear Jeremy and James moaning." I imagine this to be from Richard's travel diary, when he's in the room (or tent, or caravan) next to James' or Jeremy's. If you feel inspired, I would be more than happy to read more from Richard's diary and about the cause of the moaning. ;)


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